


Patience Rewarded

by Anatole



Series: Patience Rewarded [1]
Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 09:46:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6189676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anatole/pseuds/Anatole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeeves finds Bertie crying in the kitchen at night because of his loneliness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patience Rewarded

It was well past midnight on my day-off and I was in the process of perusing _Critique of Practical Reason_ by Immanuel Kant, which was a birthday present from Mr Wooster (who unfailingly supplies me with philosophical and literary works to celebrate various occasions), when I heard a crash in the kitchen. I stood up and hastily donning a nightgown, I proceeded to assess the damage.  
  
What I saw startled me more than I could have imagined. My employer was sitting on the floor next to a broken mug. He was sobbing loudly and trembling, his face hidden in his hands.  
  
“Sir?” I enquired with unease. I had seen Mr Wooster not in his best shape numerous times in the past: inebriated, flustered, angered and helpless, but it had never been like this – I had never seen him cry. I felt an acute pain in my chest even before I learnt what was the matter.

He made no reply and his sobbing intensified. I quickly swept the broken pieces off the floor and disposed of them so that he wouldn't get hurt. In the meantime, I tried again to elicit an answer from him:

"Is anything amiss, sir?”  
  
“I just wanted to pour myself some milk,” he finally mumbled. “And this blasted thing slipped from my hands.”  
  
I must admit that clumsiness was characteristic of my employer but I seriously doubted that it was the cause of his crisis. Whatever it was, I hoped he would confide in me, for I couldn't bear to see him go through whatever ordeal he was faced with on his own.  
  
He looked up at me, tears still pouring from his eyes. He made an effort to smile, undoubtedly for my sake.  
  
“If I may take the liberty of enquiring, sir – has anything else upset you?”  
  
“No need to worry about it, old thing,” he said, wiping his nose on a handkerchief.  
  
I ignored the voice of propriety and sat down beside him, and our arms accidentally touched. It took him aback but he leaned closer.  
  
“It's possible that I may find a solution to what is troubling you, sir. I hope my assistance has proved satisfactory in the past.”  
  
“Of course, Jeeves. Never a better counsellor than you to walk this earth. And that's why I'd like to keep you with me. I fear what is nagging at the old bean just now would send you biffing off to the greener pastures, if that's where valets biff off to escape their horrible employers.”  
  
His tone was in stark contrast with his inner state. I could ascertain that because he was shivering and hugging his knees while speaking.  
  
“You can trust me, sir. I'm not going anywhere.”  
  
I wanted him to be sure of my loyalty. Our rift over the banjolele was a thing of the past and I hoped nothing would make us part ways ever again.  
  
He seemed to hesitate and all I wanted to do was to take him in my arms and say that I would do everything in my power to make him feel better.  
  
“Oh, Jeeves...” he eventually whispered. “It's just that I'm so… frightfully lonely. It was too much for me today and I couldn't fall asleep, imagining… Oh. So I went to the kitchen to make myself some milk – I remember Aunt Dahlia would make me drink warm milk before sleep when she looked after young Bertram – but this bally mug broke and my eyes started leaking. I couldn't help it.”  
  
He'd told me that he was lonely once before. I longed to change it but feared that my intentions would not be entirely welcome. But I had nothing else to offer him, unless I suggested him a marriage with a suitable woman, which would break my heart.  
  
“Oh, sir.”  
  
After a brief internal struggle, I reached out and touched his head, running my fingers through his hair soothingly. His lips parted in surprise.  
  
“You can change that,” I added.  
  
He touched my arm shyly and rested his hand on it. His grip was tentative, as if it could burn him.  
  
“You know, old thing... It's not that I couldn't get together with someone. There are beazels more reasonable than Madeline Bassett and birds with more grey matter than the Drones out there – I hope you are not horrified that the latter is also an option for this Wooster.”  
  
“Not in the slightest, sir,” I assured him, my heart thumping violently in my chest.  
  
I registered a look of relief on his face before he continued:  
  
“I think I could be happy with one such specimen. When I say happy, I mean quite content. But I've ruled it out because once a third party takes residence in the Wooster household, you, presumably, leave it. You said it yourself in the past. So I'd rather endure my empty bed than see you go. I've been struggling with it for years, but think I'm not doing badly, only today something broke in me… I can't imagine my life without you. There, I said it.”  
  
He started crying again, choking on his tears. I was so moved that my inhibitions collapsed and I moved my hand from his hair to his neck and moved closer to embrace him, covering his lithe body with my own.  
  
“I won't leave you, sir,” I said, my lips intentionally brushing his ear. “I love you.”  
  
“Jeeves,” he gasped, placing his other hand on my back. I shivered having him so close to me. “I've loved you for years and years. I thought it was a lost cause because how could such a paragon of men fall in love with yours truly? So I just wanted to have you around, even if it meant being as lonely as I was. This sounds like a pa… pa… paradox! It was marvellous to see you bustle around the house and exercise this superior brain of yours, but I wished you'd direct a little more warmth in the direction of the young master. But I'd endure it bravely anyway.”  
  
“For once I wasn't aware, sir. Forgive me.”  
  
“Of course, old fruit,” he said softly, sneaking his hand inside my nightgown and placing it on my heart. “I should have told you but it was so dashed difficult and risky.”  
  
I wanted to tell him how wonderful and beautiful I found him; how he filled my heart with love and goodness, and how proud I was to be the object of his affections, but I couldn't help kissing him first, savouring his exhilaration. I would make sure to tell him everything afterwards, though, because he deserved to know that he meant everything to me after this long uncertainty.  
  
We had both almost given up hope of ever being loved but now our patience was rewarded.


End file.
